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MONDAY

16 February 2015, 13:16

It’s freeking cold in Hee Haw. It makes Tready time kind of yucky. But not to worry. I had a tea, a 5-hour bottle of bad stuff, and a half a box of Mike & bad stuff for breakfast. Just waiting for that inevitable sugar crash. I am successfully off pop, but hooked on those 5 hour energy shots. They taste like shit, probably cause brain tumors or spontaneous human combustion and I’m not real sure they work on me, but it has alleviated the symptoms of caffeine withdrawal by not withdrawing me from caffeine. Until I can get IVs of caffeine routed straight into my veins, this will have to do. After Tready time, I stink, and now dogs sitting under the desk have farted so I’m not exactly sure where my stink begins and canine flatulence ends.

As I said, here in Hee Haw Hell, its COLD. Fucking cold. Motherfucking cold. Although, not just 15 minutes ago, I was on the treadmill, sweating like a senator at a campaign finance reform hearing, badly belting out “Sweet Caroline” at the top of my lungs. I like Neil Diamond. Don’t judge.

It’s Monday. Why the fuck is it Monday. And why am I cussing so much? I will be ever so glad when the weather turns nice, and I can run up and down the street, sweating and flipping off hillbillies instead of Treadmilling in here, making the dogs worry about my sanity. I can’t even sing a breathy chorus of Donny Osmond’s “Soldier of Love” without them all running in here like I was being attacked by raccoons or something. But. I am happy to report, there is a little success in the tonality of flesh. All that cottage cheesy stuff that was developing on the soft parts of me is gone. Trying to get that girly figure back, before it gets totally obliterated by caramel waffle cone ice cream.

GADZOOKS. The dog farted again. It’s Hurley. And it’s a chronic condition, so there’s nothing we can do about it, short of corking up his butthole.

Still looking (kinda) for a job. But now, I’m limited to around here, since Dougie’s got one. I’m either too qualified, or not qualified enough. Ain’t that a bitch. Doug’s company needs a GD, but AHA, the position’s in Texas. I feel Texas is really someplace I would like to avoid until I die. When the senator of Florida tells the Texas senator during a TELEVISED meeting that he wouldn’t move there for all the tea in China, you have reached a pinnacle of a sorts in batshit crazy. If your state is unpalatable to somebody from FLORIDA (which ranks as a contender for Batshit Crazy King) then you’ve done something unprecedented.

Ah I know, I’m from Kansas (Brownbackistan). And living in Hee Haw. I know. Screw you. That just makes me recognize full throttle insanity when I see it.

And WHAT THE FUCK. First, Letterman is going away, Colbert has gone, Furgenson has split and JON STEWART is moving on? Is quality late night cynicism becoming extinct? I have nothing to watch now, except John Oliver and the Blacklist. I guess I should be cultivating my mind and developing my intellectualism, but that seems like a lot of work, and I’m old, so don’t I get to become a cranky reactionary now? The GIT-OFF-MY-LAWN grouchy crazy person that wishes they’d bring back Saturday morning cartoons?

You should see outside. It looks gloomy and horrible.

Yeah. There’s a lot of non-sequitur tangential shit going on here in my head. Hey, they all can’t be homeruns. Read the archives. I was funny back then. And looking at the visitor logs, there’s about four regular readers, which is a lot for a non-publicized rambling blog such as this. I did get one email asking am I on a regular schedule in writing this.

Nope.